Love & Obsession
by derangedperson
Summary: Two days after her date with Dylan Lee, Frankie finds someone who truly loves her for who she is. However, an obsessed Dylan isn't ready to give her up. Rated M for violence and language.
1. Frustration

The denizens of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends were gathered in the foyer awaiting Frankie's return from her date. As everyone eagerly thought of what had happened on this night, they were startled by the front door being violently swung open. Bloo, Mac, Prince and Chris the delivery boy entered first, followed by Frankie, who had a look of total seething hatred all over her face that left Mr. Herriman nearly cowering in fear.

"Miss Frances...what happened?" he cautiously asked.

Frankie spun around and angrily glared at him for a few seconds before yelling, "HE WAS A TOTAL PRICK! _THAT'S_ WHAT HAPPENED!"

"Yeah!" Mac replied. "The guy was a royal jerk!"

"How so?" Wilt asked.

"He had the nerve to say that she was his 'property!'" Chris added.

"WHAT? Oh man, that is NOT okay!"

"Co co coco CO-co!" Coco yelled in her unmistakable voice.

"He was a total loser!" Prince interjected.

"Dylan Lee es un perdedor MUY GRANDE!" Eduardo roared, surprising many.

"And worst of all, he had the nerve to call me a 'thing!'" Bloo screamed. As soon as he finished his outburst, the foyer--which was once buzzing with concern--had become dead silent, and everyone was blankly staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

Mac replied, "Well, no offense, Bloo, but you kinda _are_ a 'thing.'"

"I know, but to hear him say it..."

"I know what you're trying to say, Bloo," Frankie said as she knelt down to face him. "Now that I think about it, I don't know what I ever saw in that guy. It'll probably be a while before I do anything like _this_ again."

"Now, dearie, don't let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch for you," Madame Foster advised. "There's plenty of good, nice young men out there looking for a girl like you to be with."

Frankie smiled and said, "Thanks, Grandma."

"Don't you worry, Miss Frances," Herriman assured her. "Things will turn around for you."

Frankie's smile grew broader as she gave Herriman and her grandma a hug and said, "Thanks, both of you. I'm sure you're both right. I'll find someone."

"Oh, jeez..." Bloo mumbled under his breath.

Then Frankie turned to face the quartet that exposed Dylan Lee for who he really was and said, "Guys, I don't know how to thank you. If you hadn't been there, God only knows what that creep would've done."

"No problem, Frankie," Chris said. "Something about that guy just didn't seem right the first time I saw him."

"We did what anyone would've done," Prince said.

"Dress in drag and stack yourselves on top of each other?" Frankie asked incredulously.

"Well, not what _anyone_ would've done...mainly what _we_ would've done. Now that I think about it, I wouldn't mind doing Orlando Bloo again one of these days," Bloo said.

Frankie rolled her eyes, grinned and said, "Well, if you do, just make sure it's not on my next date."

Mac gave her a military salute and answered, "Will do!"

As Frankie went upstairs to her room, Mr. Herriman said, "Well, if I ever see anything like that again, it will be too soon. Now, everyone to dinner!"

Wilt said, "Dinner? Mr. Herriman, it's nearly 1 in the morning!"

"Oh! My mistake. Well then, everyone, off to bed!"


	2. Formation

Dylan Lee violently slammed the door of his apartment and flung himself on the couch. As he switched on the TV, he touched his hand to his broken nose and sizable black eye and mumbled to himself, "Fucking hell."

It was all going so perfectly. He had Frankie right where he wanted her and that kid, that geek and that thing fucked it all up. And the guy in drag? What was that about? He had said he didn't really love her, but deep down inside, he knew he was lying. He _really fucking loved her._ Not only did those four screw him over, they cost him Frankie Foster. And he would do anything to get her back.

"Stupid fucking bitch...who does she think she is, dumping me?" he said to no one in particular. "Whoever winds up going out with her now is gonna be fucking sorry. That's MY property!" He cracked open a Rolling Rock, chugged it and flung it at his TV. As it shattered against the corner of the set, he grinned sadistically and began to write down exactly what he would do when he heard a knock on his door. He tried to ignore it, but it kept ketting louder and more consistent. Finally able to take no more, he uprooted himself and screamed, "ALL RIGHT! I'm coming!"

He flung open his door only to find that no one was there. As he turned around to reenter, he saw a note attached to his door. He took it off and opened it, only to find it was an eviction notice. Dylan stood speechless in the doorway as he read it over and over again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. First he lost his woman, and now he lost his home? To him, this was no coincidence, and really no big deal. Now that he wouldn't have any bills to pay, he could put everything into motion. With a determined grin slowly crawling across his face, he went back inside and began to pack his things.

* * *

The next morning, Dylan's landlord awoke and went outside to get his morning newspaper. As he bent over to pick it up, he noticed that there was a note attached to his front door, just like he had done with the eviction notice the previous night. He apprehensively took it off the door and slowly opened it to find that it wasn't a death threat like he'd originally feared. Instead, the letter only contained one word:

THANKS.

* * *

Dylan paid the desk clerk at the hotel and walked up to his room. He had dropped off all the things he didn't need at a storage unit he'd rented the week before, only taking a few week's worth of clothes with him to the hotel. As he settled into his new home, he pulled out his cell phone and connected it to the GPS he'd taken from his car. As he filed through the contacts, he came across Frankie's cell phone number. He said, "Gotcha," and put the cell number into the GPS and watched as it centered on her location. He smiled broadly as the unit said where Frankie was at that moment--right at Foster's.

Now he could keep an eye on her whenever he wanted.

Now he could make her pay.


	3. Anticipation

TWO DAYS LATER

Mac arrived at Foster's at 3 like he always did, only to be greeted by the sight of Frankie dancing around the foyer as soon as he walked in the door. Queen's "We Are The Champions" was blaring in the background as Frankie glided around the room screaming, "YES! I HAVE A DATE TONIGHT! YES!!" She continued to do this for about a minute longer until she noticed Mac standing in the doorway, at which point she became flush with embarrassment.

"Nice moves, Frankie," Bloo said. She whirled around to find the blue blob standing behind her on the stairs drinking a juice box and applauding her performance. She blushed even redder and sharply said, _"Thanks, Bloo."_

"No problem," he answered, taking a long sip.

"So you have a date tonight, Frankie?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" she replied. "I found out about him through this ad in the paper." She brought out her wallet and showed Mac a personal ad from a John Stiles of Boston that stated the usual: 24-year old male looking for love, need someone to talk (and listen) to, etc., etc.

"Well...he _sounds_ okay...but...how do you know he won't be like Dylan?" Mac inquired.

"The line at the end of the ad is what sold me on him," Frankie answered. "I just thought it was so sweet."

Mac read the final line of the ad aloud: "'My parents always told me every woman deserves respect, and that's what I'm going to give.' Yeah, that's sweet, all right."

"I think my teeth are rotting out of my head as we speak," Bloo added as he descended the stairs, making gagging and retching noises to accentuate his opinion.

"Knock it off, you two! You don't even know him!"

"Neither do you, Frankie. For all you know this guy could be just like Dylan, or even worse. What if that last bit was just sappy schmaltz to get you to sleep with him?"

"I talked with him on the phone, and he sounded like an okay guy. How much more proof do you two need?"

"We'll know for sure after dinner tonight, won't we, Mac?" Bloo slyly asked. Mac, exasperated, slapped his forehead; Frankie immediately knew where Bloo was going and said, "NO WAY! You are NOT bringing back Orlando Bloo tonight!"

"But Frankie, we just want to see if he'll be a jerk too!" Upon hearing this, Mac cringed and slowly backed away from him.

"So that's what you really think? You don't think he'll be a good match for me?"

"I didn't say that, Frankie! I didn't have any plans to do Orlando Bloo tonight! You've gotta believe me!" Mac pleaded.

"Oh, I believe _you_, Mac," she said, "but I don't trust Bloo as far as I can throw him. Now, John's coming over at 7, so I want you guys to be on your best behavior for him, and for God's sakes, stay out of trouble."

"Man, you sound like Mac's mom!" Bloo protested.

"Just making sure you don't sabotage anything, Bloo." She leaned in close to him, smiled broadly, and said, "One. Step. Ahead."

"That's _my_ line, and you know it!"

Frankie went upstairs to her room to get ready as Mac and Bloo went about their day. When 6:45 rolled around, the two waited in the foyer for Frankie to make her grand entrance. When she did, they were staring at a goddess for the second time in as many days. That same black dress she'd worn two nights before, the hoop earrings and bracelets--all were out in full force once again tonight. Mac and Bloo stared in awe at her before simultaneously saying, "Wow."

"I know you guys liked this outfit...I can only hope John will too."

"John, John, John...if you like him so much, why don't you marry him?" Bloo said.

"Shut up," Mac hissed. No sooner did those words leave his lips than the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that must be him!" Frankie giddily said as she went to open the door. As she turned the knob and opened it, before she had time to react, an arm thrust its way into Foster's lobby, and a male voice said:

"Hi there. How you doing?"


	4. Speculation

The trio in the foyer was taken aback at the arm jutting through the air, and they drew their eyes upward to see who it was attached to.

"Can I come in?" the voice asked.

"Uh...yeah!" Frankie exclaimed. She opened the door further and John Stiles walked in. Everyone was struck silent by his presence--he was only a little taller than Frankie, but he was incredibly well-built. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his goatee extended in a straight line from his lip to his chin. He didn't look like someone you'd want to mess with, that's for sure. He broke the awkward silence, asking, "Aren't you gonna shake my hand?"

Frankie stared blankly at him for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and answering, "YES!" She extended her hand, grabbed his, and shook it firmly. "I'm Frankie Foster."

"John Stiles. Nice to meet you, Frankie...is that short for something?"

"Frances."

"That's a nice name, Frances. Why don't you use it?"

"Well, everyone's called me Frankie since I was ten seconds old, so..." She chuckled, and to her surprise, so did John. Bloo rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Come on..."

John overheard Bloo's protest and looked over Frankie's shoulder. "Who are these two?" he asked.

"Oh, that's Mac, and that's his imaginary friend Bloo," she answered.

"Well, I can see why he named you Bloo," John said as he bent down to shake his hand.

"Very funny, wiseguy," Bloo answered. He took his hand and pulled him in close, saying, "I've got my eye on you, buddy."

"Um...o..._kay_, then." He turned to Mac and said, "Barrel o' laughs, isn't he?"

"You should see him on a good day." He extended his hand, and another handshake took place.

"So...did you have any trouble finding the place?" Frankie asked.

"Oh, no trouble at all. My folks and I dropped off one of my old imaginary friends here once."

"Really? How _very_ interesting," Bloo said.

"Knock it off, Bloo!" Mac said.

"Oh...look at the time!" Frankie suddenly exclaimed. "I think we'd better get off to the restaurant!"

"I guess so." He gestured towards a blue Toyota Camry parked in the street and said, "If you want, I'll drive."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. From what I heard you say when we talked earlier, you work hard enough here. The least I can do is offer you a ride."

Frankie was stunned and surprised by this show of generosity and said, "Well...thank you, John."

"No problem." The two of them left arm in arm and soon, Mac and Bloo heard the engine turn over and eventually fade into the distance. As soon as it was silent again, Bloo raced to the closet and brought out the long trenchcoat, top hat and fake moustache that made up Orlando Bloo. As soon as Mac saw what Bloo had in mind, he exclaimed, "No. No way. Ohhhh, no."

"Come on, Mac," Bloo pleaded. "It's our duty as Frankie's friends to see whether or not this guy is genuine."

"Bloo, I promised Frankie I wouldn't do this!"

"Mac, if anything happens, we can always blame it on someone else." Mac glared at him, unconvinced. "It worked before," Bloo said in a sing-song voice as he dangled the top hat from his hands.

Mac angrily snatched it from him and said, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Remember, we're doing this for Frankie. Let's go!" He started for the door before stopping and calling up the local pizza joint. Within minutes, Chris, now off the clock this time, was knocking on the door. As Bloo opened it, he said, "No time to explain, Carl! We need to get to Carbonna's!"

"For the last time, blue boy, it's CHRIS!" he yelled.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Let's just get going!" As the trio started for Chris' truck, they noticed a red Mitsubishi Eclipse sitting on the opposite side of the street from where John had parked. Upon seeing it, Chris mumbled, "Jeez, he's still there?"

"Still there?" Mac asked. "What do you mean?"

"My last delivery around here was about an hour ago, and he was parked in that same spot then, too. I don't know about you guys, but it kinda freaked me out."

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Bloo exclaimed as they climbed into the Ranger. "TO CARBONNA'S!"

As the truck left the scene, the Eclipse rumbled to life. Now that that blue thing had given away where they were going, Dylan punched "Carbonna's" into his GPS and got its location. Looked like Frankie was there already. He smugly laughed to himself as he put the car in gear and began to drive.


	5. Provocation

Before entering Carbonna's, Frankie and John shared a mutual laugh after she finished telling the story of the day Mac had lost his mind with his sugar binge.

"Oh, man! Running naked through the house after eating ONE COOKIE?" John exclaimed.

"Yeah! I didn't know whether to let him exhaust himself or call the nuthouse!" Frankie said as they entered the restaurant, not noticing that a Ford Ranger had pulled up next to John's Camry. Before entering, Mac, Chris and Bloo went over their game plan one more time.

"I swear, if this doesn't work..." Chris mumbled.

Bloo said, "Oh, trust me, Chad, it will."

"CHRIS! MY NAME IS CHRIS, GODDAMMIT!"

"Okay, okay! No need to lose your head!" As the trio exited the truck and stood on top of one another--Chris on the bottom, Mac in the middle, and Bloo up top--Mac said, "I _really_ feel like she's going to kill us over this."

"No, she won't! And if she does, we can scatter the ashes on the front lawn," Bloo said.

Mac sarcastically replied, "Thanks for the encouragement, Bloo. Thanks a lot."

"Anytime, Mac."

With Orlando Bloo now assembled, Chris maneuvered them into the restaurant to get a bead on where Frankie was. He noticed her sitting near the same spot where Dylan had revealed his true colors when the maitre-d' approached them and said, "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"Why, yes I do," Bloo said in his exaggerated Orlando voice. Mac gestured to where Frankie and John were sitting as Bloo continued--"I happen to be with that young lady over there."

"Her reservation was for only two, sir."

"Yes, yes, funny thing, that. She must have forgotten to include me."

"Very well. I shall inform her you have arrived."

* * *

Meanwhile, while all this occurred, Frankie and John were engaged in conversation.

"So what do you do at Foster's?" John asked.

"Well..." Frankie fidgeted nervously and fumbled with her glass of water.

"It's okay; I won't laugh. What do you do there?"

"I'm...basically the housekeeper. And believe me when I say that taking care of a place that big takes up a lot of my time."

"Oh, I believe it. Just looking at the place from outside convinced me."

"Some days it's a breeze, but most of the time, it's just a pain in the ass. Sometimes I think Herriman just makes up half of the stuff I need to do."

"Who's Herriman?"

"He's the head of the house. Basically, whatever he says goes. But on the plus side, I'm the granddaughter of the lady who started it up, so he can't really do anything drastic about me without her approval."

"Family connections...nice. And believe me when I tell you, I mean that in a good way."

Frankie chuckled and asked, "So, what do you do, John?"

"I'm a contractor. My company just nailed down the rights to build a new subdivision outside of town earlier today."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. It's actually the first big job my company's ever had; we usually build stand-alone houses for customers..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the maitre-d' approached Frankie and said, "Excuse me, madam, but your other guest has arrived."

"Other guest? It's just me and--" Frankie suddenly blanched white and mumbled, "Oh, no."

"What is it, Frankie?" John asked.

"Oh, _NO!_"

"What's wrong?"

"John, I'm so sorry, but..."

"FRANKIE!" Bloo shouted as he approached the table. "How silly of you to forget about me!"

"Who are you?" John skeptically asked.

"Why, my good man, I'm Frankie's first love, _Orlando_."

"Orlando Bloo? Yeah, I know who you are."

"You do, do you?"

"I do, do I. Frankie told me all about you on our way in here."

"John," Frankie hissed, "what are you _doing?_"

"It's okay. Really." He turned to Orlando and said, "Grab a seat. You must be hungry if you're here, right, Mac?"

"Yeah!" Mac answered. Upon hearing his voice, John got up and whipped off the trenchcoat to reveal the trio stacked on top of each other.

"I've got to admit, that's pretty clever, trying to spy on me like that. You don't trust me with her, do you?" All three were struck silent with embarrassment and were too afraid to answer.

"You don't have to worry. I'm not a monster. And hey, if you want to stay, that's fine with me."

Frankie insisted, "John, really, that's not--"

"Well, they put in the effort, and if they want to stay behind, I have no problem with that."

"Well," Mac said, "I appreciate the offer, but I've got to get home. It's a school night."

"And I need to get back to Foster's before Herriman loses it," Bloo said.

"And I've got to get back home to...uh...feed my fish!" Chris said as the three left the table in a hurry.

"Wow. That was odd. So, where were we?"

Frankie stared at John in total surprise. When he pulled off the trenchcoat, she had expected the worst. Dylan had lost it when he found them out, so why wouldn't he? But seeing him maintain his dignity and try to diffuse the awkwardness he'd created cemented her assumption that he was a decent, genuine guy. She leaned in to ask him a question but never got a chance to get it out, as Mac, Bloo and Chris bolted back into the dining room with worried, panicked looks on their faces.

"Uh...who owns a blue Camry?" Chris shakily asked.

John stood up and tersely asked, "What happened to my car?"

"You'd better come out and see for yourself," Bloo said. John bolted from his seat and ran out to the parking lot with Frankie close behind yelling, "John, wait up! John!" The five ran around the back of the building to where he had parked and saw an ugly, heart-stopping sight. John's car had been horribly vandalized.

"WHAT THE _FUCK?_" he screamed as he rushed towards the shattered remains of his Toyota. Whoever did this had done a number on it--all four tires had been slashed, the side view mirrors on both sides had been knocked off and were laying on the ground beside their respective doors, there were deep gouges in the paintwork and up and down the sides of the car, and all the windows had been smashed with some kind of blunt object.

"WHAT THE _FUCK?_" he repeated.

"John, please don't be mad at us! We didn't do this!" Chris pleaded.

"It's okay; I believe you," he answered. "I'm just fuckin' shocked, is all." He pulled out his cell phone and called a 24-hour towing service to pick it up as Frankie cautiously approached him and said, "John, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Frankie. It's not your fault; I really had a nice night despite this." She smiled and put her head on his forearm as he began to talk to the towing company. While staring at the ruin before him, Mac noticed a note tucked under one of the windshield wipers. He took it off and read it, only to instantly turn pale. Frankie noticed this and asked, "Mac, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mac said nothing as he gave Frankie the note. She read it and instantly paled considerably. As Chris and Bloo got a look at it, John flipped his phone shut and said, "What's up with a note?" A decidedly white Chris handed the note to John--he opened it to be greeted by an ominous two-word message written in heavy black, jagged letters with the final word underlined for greater impact:

**SHE'S _MINE._**


	6. Explanation

The mangled Camry was hoisted up onto the flatbed truck as John paid the driver and tried to contact his insurance company. When he got an answering machine, he clenched his teeth and let out an aggravated sigh.

"I just bought that car two months ago. How the hell am I going to get anywhere now?"

The tow truck driver said, "We can get you a loaner until it gets fixed, if that's okay with you." John nodded and held up his free hand as the answering machine on the other line beeped, and began to give his information. Chris had a disposable camera in his truck, and he was taking pictures of the damage. When he finished, John flipped his phone shut and asked the truck driver, "What kind of a loaner?"

"We have a replacement Camry at our lot, if you want."

"Sure, sure. Thanks a lot," he answered. The driver climbed into his cab and drove away as the quintet gazed at the truck vanishing into the distance. Frankie broke the tense silence as she asked John, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just worried about you--after you saw that note, you looked like you were gonna faint."

"It's nothing. Just a piece of my past I thought would know better."

"What do you mean by that?"

Frankie ran her fingers through her hair and said, "A couple of days ago I went out with this guy who I thought would be a prince, and it turned out he was just a total asshole."

"Who?" John asked.

Chris piped up and answered his question: "His name was...um...Dylan Lee." John's eyes grew wide as he said, "Dylan Lee?"

"Yeah," Chris answered. John immediately put his thumb and index finger to his eyes, shook his head, and mumbled, "Son of a bitch..."

"What? What about him?" Mac asked.

"What _about_ him? The guy's a fuckin' psycho. He's been in jail three times in the past year for assault and battery on some former dates of his."

Frankie gulped and said, "You're kidding, right, John?"

"I wish I was, Frankie. I went to high school with the guy--around April of '01, he was going steady with this girl named Diane Sullivan, and she tried to break it off after he got too controlling for her. Well, after she dumped him and kicked him out of her house, he shows up there a week later with a goddamn butcher knife, pounding on her door screaming that he's gonna kill her."

Bloo's jaw dropped and he mumbled, "What a loony."

"No kidding, Bloo. Anyway, he was arrested and word spread around school of what he'd tried to do. Everyone started fearing for their lives, and rightly so, and Dylan wound up getting expelled about two weeks after this whole thing took place. Diane transferred to a high school ten miles away, and we didn't hear anything from her until the end of the year...it wasn't good, either. After my class graduated, we found out she had died in a car crash--it turned out the brake line had been cut."

"Jesus..." Chris murmured.

"They couldn't pin it on Dylan 'cause he had an alibi, so they let him go. Lately, he's been roaming around the dating circuit trying to find someone gullible enough to fall for him--and I'm _not_ saying you are, Frankie--and just make their lives a living hell. You're the first person that I've ever heard of that had him on the ropes, and I really admire you for that."

Frankie blushed and said, "Thanks, John. I even punched the bastard out; broke his nose and gave him a big ol' black eye." When she said this, John fell to his knees and began to bow at her feet.

"You...are a GODDESS!" he screamed. "For you to do that to fuckin' Dylan Lee is EASILY the ballsiest thing I've ever heard!" But his smile quickly faded as he glanced at the note and said, "It looks like he's after you, though. I'd recognize his handwriting anywhere."

"So what do we do?" she asked.

"Well, I'll do what anyone would do--I'm gonna protect you as best I can. As long as I'm still breathing, I'll make sure this jackoff doesn't do a thing to you, to Mac, Bloo or Chris here." He turned to Chris and said, "Thanks a lot for taking those pictures, man. Just make sure you get them developed by tomorrow afternoon, 'cause I'm going to my insurance company to have them assess the damage and see how much this'll cost me."

"Sure thing." The five of them huddled together and stared at the note for a few moments before they piled into Chris' truck and prepared to leave. "Hold on," John said. "I've gotta pay for the food." As he left the truck, Frankie noticed a figure standing on the sidewalk near a lamplight smoking a cigarette. It was too dark to see who it was, but it looked like a man, and he appeared to be watching the truck.

Mac asked, "Frankie, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah...yeah. I'm fine, Mac." Just then, the driver's side passenger door opened and John squeezed into the backseat. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Really." Chris started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot, passing the figure underneath the lamp. As they moved down the street and out of the range of the mirrors, Dylan Lee, brandishing a metal baseball bat, stepped out from the shadow of the light and said, "Looks like they got my message." He walked a block down the street to his Eclipse, threw the bat into the backseat, climbed behind the wheel and started the car. His stereo blared the chorus of Billy Joel's "She's Right On Time" as he made a U-turn and went back to the hotel.


	7. Introduction

THE NEXT DAY

John pulled up to Foster's in the loaner Camry and smiled. Even though things had fallen apart the night before, he was still looking forward to spending the day with Frankie. As he left the car, he grabbed the bouquet of roses he had bought and started for the door when he ran into Mac, on his way to Foster's from school.

"Hey, John!" Mac said.

"Hey, Mac," John answered. "I see you had the same idea I did."

"Oh, I come here every afternoon after school. I live just down the road, so it's not that far of a walk."

"I see." Mac and John entered Foster's simultaneously to be greeted by Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster, who immediately gravitated towards John. Madame Foster took his hand and said, "You must be the young man that Frankie told me about."

"Uh...that's me, ma'am. How are you?"

"I'm fine; thank you for asking. The rabbit here is Mr. Herriman." John took his hand and said, "Oh, so _you're_ Herriman. It's a fitting name."

"Thank you, Master Jonathan. Miss Frances has said many glowing things about you, and I want you to know that you are more than welcome anytime here."

"Thanks. Where's Frankie?"

"Oh, she had to go to the grocery store to pick up some odds and ends. She'll be back soon," Madame Foster said.

"Okay, then." He put the roses on an endtable and asked, "Would you mind if I took a look around the place?"

"Not at all, Master Jonathan." John ascended the stairs and was greeted by Bloo descending the stairs to greet Mac. The two exchanged a greeting and continued on their way.

"So, Mac," Bloo said, "it turns out I was right."

"What are you talking about?"

"John. I never doubted him for a second." Mac rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead at Bloo's bravado before greeting Herriman and Madame Foster like he always did. As he left the foyer with Bloo, he whispered, "Do they know about yesterday?"

"No. Frankie didn't say anything, and Charlie didn't either. I've been quiet too, if you can believe it."

"Good. I don't want Herriman or Madame Foster to worry."

"Worry about what?" Wilt asked. Mac and Bloo spun around to see him, Eduardo and Coco standing behind them and scrambled to cover their tracks. "Worry about...John trying to dump her! Yeah, that's it!" Bloo stammered.

"Dump her? Don't be silly! That guy's the genuine article--he's perfect for Frankie!"

"Si! Senor John is better than that 'prick' he mentioned!" Eduardo said.

"Co cocococo co co coco!" Coco interjected.

"I hope you're right, Coco," Wilt said. "I really hope you're right." Just then, John descended the stairs, greeted the quintet in front of him, and said to Madame Foster, "Man, this place is enormous! You must have a lot of people working here!"

"Well, as long as everyone pitches in to help, everything turns out fine."

"So Frankie's really the only one that works here?"

Mr. Herriman interjected, "You make it sound like Miss Frances is a slave, Master Jonathan."

"I'm not saying that, Herriman. I'm just saying that for one person to clean this entire house is asking a bit too much. If there's anything you need done right now, I'll do it."

"Are you sure, dearie?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then, get crackin'! I've got a bowling game to get to tonight!" John chuckled at her spiritedness and started for the laundry room when the front door swung open and a hysterical, sobbing Frankie ran into his arms. Everyone in the foyer was taken aback at seeing Frankie so unglued and raced to comfort her.

"Frankie, dear, are you okay?" Madame Foster asked.

"What's wrong, Frankie?" Mac added.

"Whatever happened to you, Miss Frances?"

She didn't hear any of them. Frankie sobbed loudly into John's shoulder as he rocked her back and forth, saying, "It's okay. It's okay." He put his hand under her chin and drew her eyes up to his and asked, "What happened, honey?"

She wiped her eyes and whispered, "He was at the store."

"Who was at the store?" Wilt asked.

"John, _he was at the store!_" Frankie cried.

"Who? Who was at the store, Miss Frances?"

Frankie sniffled and turned pale. She knew that by mentioning his name, the truth about last night would eventually come out. All she wanted was for this to be dealt with in private and for no one to know but her, John, Mac, Bloo and Chris. Tears began to spill from her eyes as she faced everyone and uttered one word to identify who it was:

"Dylan."


	8. Seduction

There was a tense, deafening silence in the foyer of Foster's. The instant Frankie mentioned Dylan's name, everything stopped. Madame Foster's face was a pained expression of concern, Mr. Herriman had put his hand to his mouth in shock, Mac and Bloo broke into a cold sweat, and Wilt, Coco and Eduardo all stared blankly at her.

"Um...who's Dylan?" Wilt asked, breaking the silence.

Frankie wiped the tears from her eyes and said, "He was...he was my date a few days ago. Remember when I came storming in saying he was a total prick?"

"Oh yeah...what happened at the store, then?"

"Well..." Frankie tried to begin explaining when she started shaking heavily.

"Miss Frances, please sit down," Mr. Herriman suggested. Frankie complied, sat down on the sofa near her grandma's bust, and began to explain.

"Well, the trip through initially went just fine. I got everything I needed to get and I was walking to my car when I see Dylan leaning against the back end of it grinning at me. I tried to tell him to go away but he wouldn't listen. He got in my face and he told me...he...he told me..."

"It's okay, Frankie. We're here," John assured.

She smiled slightly and continued: "He told me that I belonged to him...what he said was--and this will never, _never_ leave me--'Frankie, you're my property, do you understand? I fucking own you, and that loser you're with is a dead man if I see him around you again. And if you don't come back to me, I won't hesitate to kill you.'"

"Jesus fucking Christ," John mumbled. Everyone looked at Frankie in total shock and concern as Wilt put his good hand on her shoulder and said, "Frankie, don't worry about a thing. We'll protect you."

Herriman went into a boxing stance and said, "If that ruffian dares to show up at the front door, I shall give him the old one-two!"

"Thanks a lot, guys. I think now we can tell them, John."

"About what, dearie?"

"About last night," John said. "We didn't really wind up getting stuck in traffic. What really happened was, sometime while Frankie and I were in the restaurant, my car was vandalized. Tires slashed, windows beat in--the whole nine. Before the tow truck came, Chris..."

"Quien es Chris?" Eduardo asked.

"He's a pizza delivery guy who was there that night. Anyway, he took pictures of the damage; I've got them right here." He pulled out a white envelope and gave it to Madame Foster. She opened it, looked at the pictures and said, "Oh, my..." She passed them around to everyone else as John continued his explanation:

"So I have no car, and the one I drove here today is a loaner from the towing company. I just talked with my insurance company before I came here, and they're going to pay up to $4,000 for the damages; anything more is out of my own pocket. What's worse than that is, Mac found this note underneath one of the windshield wipers."

John pulled out the note and gave it to Madame Foster. She was instantly struck dumb at the letter and its intent, Herriman even more so. Wilt, Eduardo and Coco looked angry enough to punch a collective hole in the nearest wall.

"I have every reason to believe that Dylan did this to my car," John continued. "I really feel like our lives might be in jeopardy because of this guy, but I'm not going to hide. I want to see him either behind bars or dead himself."

"You and me both, Johnny," Wilt said. "This guy's bad news."

"You're telling me. I went to high school with the guy and I know how bad he can get."

"I'm with John," Frankie said as she stood beside him.

"But Miss Frances, this man has threatened your life!"

"I know, but first thing tomorrow, I'm filing a restraining order against him. That way, if he comes near me again, he'll be arrested."

"It's a good idea," Mac said. "With these photos and Frankie's word, there shouldn't be any problem getting him convicted."

"I hope so, Mac. I really do," Frankie replied.

John smiled at her and said, "I hate to do this, but I've gotta get to work. Homes don't build themselves, you know." As he ran out towards his car, Mr. Herriman smiled and said, "That young man is truly a wonderful individual. You're lucky to have him, Miss Frances."

"Thanks, Mr. H." Everyone gave Frankie a show of support as they left the foyer and went about their business. Later that night as she prepared for bed, she heard a knock at the door. She opened it to find John standing there with a box of chocolates and another bouquet of roses.

He said, "Well, I didn't get to do this right earlier, so here I am."

"John, you really didn't have to get another bouquet--the one you got me earlier was fine."

"I know, but with everything that happened today and the fact that everyone knows about what happened last night..."

"Don't worry about it, John. Come on in." He entered and the two made their way up to Frankie's bedroom.

"Nice spread you've got here," John complimented. "You've really got a--"

Before he could finish his sentence, Frankie shut her door and eagerly tackled him with all the force she could, knocking him backwards onto her bed. The two playfully tussled with one another, giggling and laughing all the while. When their good-natured wrestling ended, John was on his back staring into the eyes of an angel. Frankie had never looked more radiant, more alive than she did at that very moment. He blissfully smiled and whispered, "I love you, Frankie. I love you more than you'll ever know."

Frankie echoed his smile and said, "I think I already know how much you love me. I love _you_ more than you'll ever know." She lowered her face closer to his as he said, "No, I love _you_ more." He raised his head as she delivered her rebuttal: "I love _you_ more." By this point there were mere centimeters between the two as John whispered, "No, I--"

Before he could finish, Frankie's lips met his and the two of them engaged in a long, passionate kiss. John caressed Frankie's back and shoulders and slowly removed her nightgown as she did the same with his shirt. Frankie buried her face in John's chest as he kissed the top of her head and lovingly stroked her hair. He admired the contours of her body and her naked form there in the night as she began to kiss him once again, slowly escalating their passion into full-on lovemaking. As they made love throughout the night, they both felt the pressure and the fright of the past day lift off of their shoulders as they shared in their mutual ecstasy. Heaven, at least for one night, existed in their passion.


	9. Distraction

The next morning, Bloo knocked on Frankie's door.

"_Frankie,_" he whined, "I'm hungry! Wake up and make me something to eat!" When he got no response, he knocked even louder. Still no response.

Irritated, he began banging on the door, screaming, "_FRANKIE!_ Openupopenupopenupopenupopen--" He was cut off suddenly when the door was flung open and an agitated, audibly tired male voice shouted, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU _WANT_, BLOO?"

Confused, Bloo asked, "John? Is that you?"

"Who else would it be, short stack?" He leaned against the frame, noticeably disheveled and almost completely nude. Bloo shielded his eyes and exclaimed, "JEEZ, put some pants on, willya?"

"What's going on? You hungry?"

"Well, _duh!_ You heard me, didn't you?" Their argument awoke Frankie, who sleepily rubbed her eyes and asked, "John, what's going on?"

"Nothing, honey. Just having a talk with Bloo."

Bloo incredulously asked, "_Honey?_ What's going on with that?"

John slyly grinned and answered, "Oh, nothing. Tell you what, Bloo--give us fifteen minutes and we'll meet you downstairs. We can go out to eat if you want."

"You sure?"

"Why not? Frankie and I have some business to take care of anyway, and you can come along if you want."

"Wow...sorry about the excessive knocking before."

"Don't worry about it--just don't do it again."

Bloo left the vicinity of Frankie's room and went outside. As he sat on the porch drinking a juice box, he noticed a gleaming light in a clump of trees. He squinted to get a better look at it and then noticed a flash coming from that same area. Suspicious, he cocked an eyebrow and went to investigate. As he drew closer to the source of the light and the flash, he noticed that it had come from near the top of the tree. Bloo spat on his hands, crouched, and jumped onto the trunk, grabbing hold of it and climbing as quietly as he could. When he reached the top, a clump of leaves blocked his view of the source of the light.

Bloo began to sweat as he played out the various scenarios in his mind. He prayed that it was an imaginary friend, but all indications told him that it was Dylan. Dylan Lee in the tree. He gulped and grabbed the branch, only to freeze up. With his heart ready to jump out of his chest and breathing heavily, Bloo drew the branch back only to see--

"WHERE ARE YOU, BLOO?"

The sudden exclamation caused Bloo to scream and lose his footing, sending him plummeting out of the tree, landing right on Frankie. "Bloo?" she asked.

"Oh...hey, Frankie."

"What were you doing up there?" John asked. Bloo stared up at the tree and managed to see nothing but leaves and branches. He answered his question with a half-truth: "I got bored, so I decided to climb a tree. Yep. Nothing less, nothing more."

"O..._kay_. Let's go, then." As the three of them walked to John's car, Bloo uneasily glanced back at the forest behind Foster's, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. When they drove off, Dylan calmly strode across the sidewalk in front of the building, staring at it and mumbling, "Soon, Frankie. Very soon." A camera dangled from his shoulder as he continued walking down the street.


	10. Reaction

Breakfast with Bloo was _not_ something John wanted to subject himself to again in the near future. Three orders of pancakes for him were wolfed down in seconds, and he wound up tapping the orange juice dry as well. It was interesting to see the other customers' reactions when he wore one as a hat.

Oh well. No harm, no foul, he thought to himself. The trio had made it to the courthouse and were now waiting in the lobby when Bloo suddenly piped up, "I thought I saw something in that tree."

"Can you say that again, Bloo?" Frankie asked.

"I was out on the porch earlier when you two were getting dressed and stuff, and I thought I saw something shiny in a tree. That's why I fell on your head."

"Did you see anything?"

"No, I didn't...at least nothing I could make out on my way down." The corner of Frankie's mouth curled into a slight grin as she continued to read the latest issue of _Metal Edge_ when the courthouse clerk approached the intercom.

"Mr. Stiles? Ms. Foster?" the clerk asked.

"Yes?" 

"Judge Theilman is ready to hear your case."

"Okay." Frankie and John gathered their evidence and prepared to tell the judge what had happened, but not before John gave Bloo a stern warning of "Stay here and don't touch _anything._" Bloo rolled his eyes and answered, "Come on--this is _me_ you're talking to!"

"Exactly."

As the courtroom door shut, Bloo sank into his chair and began whipping his paddleball around, not really paying attention to anything but his toy. While he tried to get two consecutive paddle whacks in, he noticed a figure standing near the exit that wasn't there before. His face, his build, his clothing--he knew he'd seen them somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it...and then the figure walked underneath a light.

It was Dylan Lee.

Bloo's jaw dropped in terror as Dylan stared him down. The imaginary friend broke into a cold sweat as his enemy just stood there, chewing gum and smiling wickedly at him. Bloo anticipated the worst, but all Dylan did afterwards was salute him goodbye and exit the courthouse. No sooner did his Eclipse pull out of the parking lot than Frankie and John come out of the courtroom smiling broadly.

"Well, it's official," Frankie boasted. "Now Dylan can't come within 500 feet of me, anyone at Foster's, or Foster's itself!" Bloo didn't answer, as his eyes were still rooted to the spot where Dylan once stood.

"Hey, short stack, you okay?" John asked. All Bloo could say was a barely audible "I saw him."

Frankie and John immediately knew who 'him' was and raced to comfort Bloo and see what happened. "He didn't do anything," Bloo said. "He just stood there and was gone about ten seconds before you guys came out."

"Christ, he doesn't know when to quit...and how the fuck does he always seem to know where we are?" Frankie wondered.

"I don't know, hon," John replied. "But with this, he can't come close to any of us without being thrown in jail. Let's get home."


	11. Instigation

Everyone at Foster's cheered Frankie and John's collective victory as soon as they got back from the courthouse. The fact that they both walked in with beaming smiles and Frankie brandishing the order like a diploma helped to accentuate the good mood.

"So you got the restraining order?"

"That's right, Mac. Now Dylan can't do a thing to me, to you, to anyone here. He's gotta stay at least 500 feet away or else he's headed to jail."

"Well, that is a major, major relief," Mr. Herriman said.

"Awesome!" Wilt exclaimed. "So are you two lovebirds gonna do anything to celebrate?"

"We were gonna go out for a drink, if that's okay with you, Herriman," John suggested.

"Certainly, Master Jonathan. Your victory has been assured--it is only fair that you and Miss Frances celebrate." But Herriman, astute as always, noticed someone was missing. "Where is Master Blooregard?"

"He's coming," Frankie said. Just then, Bloo unceremoniously entered the foyer and said, "Hey, everyone" before heading up the stairs to his room.

"What's wrong with Azul?" Eduardo wondered.

"He just had a rough day, Eduardo. Nothing to worry about."

With everyone assured of their safety, Frankie and John left and headed to a bar that John frequented after work, the Sandbox. Upon entering, the doorman clapped John on the back and said, "Johnny Stiles! How the hell are ya?"

"Doing great, Phil. How're you?"

"Fine, Johnny. Who's this lovely lady you've got here?"

"This is my girlfriend, Frankie Foster. Frankie, this is Phil Grey, an old family friend."

Frankie shook his hand and said, "Hey, Phil."

"Hello, Frankie. Well, have a seat, you two! Celebrate whatever you came here to celebrate!" With that blessing, John and Frankie sat down in a booth and ordered a couple of Budweisers and a pizza to be shared between them. When the pizza arrived, Frankie took a piece, stuck it in the air, and said, "To Chris!" John did the same, echoed her sentiment, and they began to eat and talk about how lucky they were and where their relationship could go. They danced together to the music coming from the jukebox, cheered on the Patriots, and tried to sing karaoke but flubbed it miserably.

Towards 11, Frankie said, "John, I hate to do this to you, but I'd better get back home. I don't want anyone getting worried."

"How are you gonna get back to Foster's? We've been drinking!"

"I'll call a cab. No worries." Frankie gave him a kiss on his cheek as she left, saying, "See you at home."

"Yeah. See you soon." John watched Frankie leave and smiled to himself. How lucky he was to have found her through that newspaper ad. He honestly didn't think it would work, but he had finally found someone to love and be loved back. He'd do anything for her, and she'd do anything for him. But his good mood was quickly sullied when he heard a gruff voice from behind him:

"I'm touched, John-boy. Really fuckin' touched."

John only knew of one person who called him that. He immediately tensed up and whirled around to see Dylan standing next to him. "And here I thought you were scraping the bottom of the barrel lady-wise," Dylan continued.

"Get the fuck away from me, Dylan."

"Listen to me, Stiles. She belongs to me, do you understand? You really think that she's gonna stick with you when she could have _me?_ Please. You're a freakin' _nobody_."

"Well, I'm a hell of a lot more stand-up than you are, you fuckin' louse. Besides, you can't even be talking to me. I have a restraining order against you."

"A restraining order?" Dylan sarcastically laughed. "Do you think a piece of paper is gonna stop me from getting her back? I'm not going anywhere, buddy."

John grew angrier and angrier with every word he said to him. "I'm not your buddy, you cocksucker. _You stay the FUCK away from me and Frankie!_"

By now, the attention of everyone in the bar was focused on their argument in the booth. "That's MY property, you stupid twat! As far as I'm concerned, I'm lettin' you borrow her for a little while!"

"I'm not gonna say this again, Lee. _Get the fuck away from me._"

"Wow, I didn't know you were a poet." John, unamused by Dylan's sarcastic aside, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward until their noses nearly touched. He spat, "Listen to me and listen to me good, you piece of shit. If I _EVER_ see you again, if I hear anyone at Foster's say they saw you around, I will hunt you down and I will fuckin' _castrate _you."

Dylan gasped in mock terror and asked, "Was that a threat, John-boy?"

John reached for an empty Budweiser bottle and said, "No. _This_ is." In a flash, he grabbed the bottle and smashed it over Dylan's head, knocking him onto the table. John leapt on top of him and began to ram his head into the wood as various patrons and Phil struggled to separate the two. When they finally did, John screamed, "You're goddamn lucky I didn't kill you!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Stiles! You can't stop me! Frankie's MINE!" John let that slide, shook off the sea of hands and turned to leave before Dylan smugly added, "Oh...sorry about your car!"

John lost it at this and rushed at Dylan only to be held back by Phil and three burly linebacker types, all the while grabbing at him and yelling, "I FUCKIN' KNEW IT! YOU MOTHERFUCKER, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR FUCKIN' HEAD OFF AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR GODDAMN ASS! YOU'RE PAYIN' FOR IT!"

"Get outta here, John!" Phil screamed.

"All right! All right! I'm going!" John shook him off and plunged out the door, hearing Dylan fire off one last threat: "You can't stop me, John-boy." It echoed in his head as he drove back to Foster's, and when he entered the foyer, Mac asked, "John, what happened to you?"

"Dylan happened to me, Mac." He started up the stairs and asked, "Where's Frankie?"

"Miss Frances hasn't come home yet," Mr. Herriman answered.

John felt every muscle in his body tighten. He froze, turned around and asked, _"What did you say?"_

"Um...Miss Frances hasn't returned."

John felt like he was going to vomit as he hurriedly ran up the stairs and frantically tore through the house calling Frankie's name. After ten minutes and having covered nearly every square inch of the place, he returned to the foyer, descended the stairs and collapsed on the floor.

"John! Hey!" Wilt yelled.

"She left in a cab nearly two hours ago!" he cried. "How could she not have gotten here?"

"Two hours?"

Wilt assured him, "She'll be back, John. Trust me." Just then, there was a knock at the door followed by the sound of a car burning rubber down the road. Mr. Herriman opened the door to find a package lying on top of the welcome mat. It had a small note attached to it that he dared not read. Instead, he hopped over to John and gave the package to him, uneasily saying, "I think this may be for you, Master Jonathan."

Everyone crowded around him as he took the package in his hands, which shook violently as he opened it. It contained two items--one of which was a GPS unit, the other of which was a manila envelope that seemed to contain a picture. John swallowed hard and pulled the photograph partway out of the envelope, only to scream in shock and rage and drop it to the floor, where it landed face down. Bloo ran in from the game room and asked, "What happened? Who screamed?"

As he approached the group gathered around the fallen photo, he asked if he should turn it over. John hesitantly nodded, and Bloo turned it over right side up and recoiled in shock. A collective gasp emanated from the group as they stared down at the picture in slackjawed horror. It was a photo of Frankie bound and gagged to a pole in a warehouse.

"Wh...wh...what's the note say?" Wilt whimpered. Shaking with rage, John opened the letter to find the same black, jagged lettering that greeted him at the remains of his Camry a week ago. Now, however, the words echoed with a calm, cocky sense of total victory:

**LIKE I SAID, SHE'S _MINE._**


	12. Abomination

_"Open your eyes, Frankie."_ Almost on command, Frankie snapped awake and got a quick look at her surroundings. She was on the upper level of an empty warehouse, tied to a pole, and staring straight into the face of Dylan Lee. She thrust out at him, screaming muffled profanities and straining against her bonds.

Dylan arrogantly strutted up to her, put his hands above her head and said, "Well, now _that's_ the Frankie Foster I remember! But it doesn't look like you're in any position to punch me out at the moment." Instead, Frankie did the next best thing--she kneed him right in the groin.

Dylan's eyes bulged in pain as his hands shot to his crotch. He groaned and staggered back as Frankie began to chuckle, the sound of which was quickly silenced as Dylan stalked up to her and slapped her across the face, screaming, "DO THAT AGAIN AND I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT HERE, YOU FUCKING _CUNT!_"

Frankie's eyes welled with tears as she recovered from the blow and stared, shocked, at Dylan. His eyes narrowed as he returned her gaze, crossed his arms and said, "Get comfortable, Frankie. You're not going anywhere for a while."

She hung her head, totally deflated. She started to hope and pray that somehow, her friends at Foster's would find her and put Dylan six feet under.

-------------------------------------

"Fuck!"

"John, please calm down!"

"FUCK!"

"No mas, John! No mas!"

_"FUUUUCK!"_

As John paced around the foyer screaming curses and breathing heavily, everyone tried to calm him down, to no avail. Wilt said, "John, don't beat yourself up over this! You'll get her back, and we'll help you!"

Hysterical, John screamed, "HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT, WILT? WHAT IF SHE'S ALREADY DEAD?"

"Don't think like that, John," Bloo said. "Frankie's more than alive, and rest assured, you'll beat Dylan into the ground and ride high with her in your arms!"

"That's real nice of ya, Bloo. Come up with it yourself?" Mac asked.

"Nah--heard it in a song somewhere."

Suddenly, Madame Foster entered the foyer and upon seeing her, everyone paled and began trembling.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Are you cold? I can turn the heat up."

John ran to her, put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Madame Foster, listen to me. We'll take care of this. Don't worry."

"Worry about what?"

"About this, Madame," Herriman said as he hopped towards his creator with the photo in hand. John cringed and looked away as she took a look at the photo and screamed, "FRANKIE! OH MY GOD, FRANKIE!" She whirled around and yanked John down to her level and screamed, "WHO DID THIS, JOHNNY?"

Shocked and surprised by her sudden burst of force, John stammered out, "Uh...Dylan...Dylan Lee."

"WHERE IS HE? _WHERE IS HE?_"

"I don't know--that's what we're trying to find out." Just then, Mac managed to get the GPS working and said, "I think this might help." As he gave it to John, he stared at it to see that it was giving them Frankie's location--she was downtown at the old Rialto Hotel.

"Motherfucker..." John mumbled.

"What? What is it?"

"Mac, _this_ is how he was able to find out where we were! The goddamn GPS unit! He must have put Frankie's cellphone into the database to get a bead on her..._that's_ why he always showed up!"

"What shall we do, Master Jonathan?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do--EVERYONE ON THE BUS _NOW!_" He started for the garage and continued: "Let's go get her!"

"YEAH!" Wilt yelled as the group raced to the bus, nearly falling over one another in the process. They piled into the vehicle, John at the helm, and peeled off as soon as the garage door opened, with Bloo screaming their party line:

"DEATH TO DYLAN! FRANKIE IS _OURS!_"


	13. Revelation

The bus screamed down the street like a bat out of hell as John mumbled the chorus to the Slayer song "Payback" while he guided the bus to and fro. Everyone hung on for dear life as he rode the bus as hard as he could, weaving through traffic, blaring the horn and screaming, "OUT OF THE WAY!" There were still about 10 miles to go, but he didn't care. Any time wasted, to him, would mean certain death for Frankie.

Just then, his cellphone rang, but he didn't notice until Mac told him. As he prepared to answer it, the caller ID said that it was Frankie calling him. His heart raced as he flipped it open and shouted, "Frankie?"

"Close but no cigar, John-boy."

John's face contorted into a violent grimace of hate as he screamed, "YOU MOTHERFUCKER! WHERE'S FRANKIE?"

"She's right here with me at the old business district on the waterfront."

"The waterfront? No, she's at the Rialto downtown!" 

"That's one of her old phones, Johnny. Stop there and take a look at my room, number 203. You'll love it." Dylan hung up the phone as John screamed, "Wait! Dylan! _DYLAN!_"

"What is it, John?" Eduardo asked.

"She's not at the Rialto! She's at the waterfront in the old business district!"

"So why are we going to the Rialto in the first place?" Bloo asked.

"To see Dylan's room." He gunned the engine and raced downtown, parking in the street in front of the Rialto. He fed the meter for two hours--more than enough time--and the group raced to room 203. Wilt knocked on the door and said, "Anyone in there?" He knocked again. "Hello?"

"There's no one in there, Wilt!" John screamed as he grabbed the knob and pushed the door. To his surprise, it opened into Dylan's domain. It was pitch black in there, and when he turned on the lights, they were greeted by a nauseating sight--the walls were covered with photographs of Frankie in all shapes and sizes. Newspaper clippings of Foster's were stuck on a tackboard, and a quick peek into the bathroom revealed that Dylan had made it into a makeshift darkroom.

"Jesus Maria," Eduardo mumbled.

"Co co coco co," Coco said in shock. Wilt was busy looking through a photo album lying on the bed, looking more and more horrified with each turn of the page. John asked him, "What is it, Wilt?"

He handed him the photo album and said, "See for yourself, man."

John opened it to see various photos of him and Frankie out and about--going to a movie, helping out around Foster's, walking and talking together. The only thing was, John could tell it was himself by looking at the body. His head had been cut out of all of the pictures and some had been replaced with Dylan's.

His eyes bulged as he flipped through the album over and over again before Bloo entered the room with another manila envelope. Before he could say anything, John snatched it from him and whipped out the photos.

His heart almost stopped as he looked through them. They were all pictures of what he and Frankie had done since they'd met--entering his Camry for the first time. Exiting the Camry and entering Carbonna's. A photo of the two of them eating at Carbonna's shortly before Orlando Bloo showed up. Photos of the wrecked Camry. John with the flowers. Frankie dashing in after the meeting at the grocery store. John with the new pair of flowers and the chocolates.

But his blood truly began to boil as he rifled through the next set of pics--they were of the night that he and Frankie had made love. He clenched his teeth and began to breathe heavily. His eyes grew bloodshot and Mac noticed the vein in his neck throbbing like a guitar string. There were even photos of the morning after.

Bloo was right.

The last photo was a picture of a warehouse on the waterfront with a Post-It note attached to it reading "WE'RE HERE." John grabbed the photo, screamed his lungs empty, and raced out of the hotel with the Foster's gang in hot pursuit.


	14. Motivation

The minute that the group piled into the bus, John gunned the engine and made an immediate U-turn and a sharp right turn onto the main drag. All the while, John was ramming his fist into the speedometer and screaming, "COME ON! _COME ON!_" Suddenly, his cell phone rang.

He flipped it open only to hear Dylan smugly ask, "So...what'd ya think?"

"YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER! I'M GONNA CUT YOUR FUCKIN' THROAT--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, John-boy! Don't get all pushy with me or I won't let you talk to Frankie."

John gritted his teeth, swallowed hard and asked, "Frankie? PUT HER ON!"

"Allrighty, then." On the other end of the line, Dylan walked over to Frankie, ripped the tape off of her mouth, pressed the phone to her ear and said, "Talk to him."

"John?" she asked. "John, can you hear me?"

John's heart soared as he cried, "_FRANKIE!_ Frankie, oh Christ, are you okay? Where are you?"

"We're in building eight! Building eight!"

John openly wept as he screamed, "Frankie, we're coming! Wilt, Ed, Coco, Herriman, Mac, Bloo, your grandma, me--we're coming to get you! We're coming! GODDAMMIT, WE'RE COMING!"

"John, _please be careful! _PLEASE!" At the warehouse, Dylan pulled the phone away and said, "Now that you know she's still alive...come on down. I'll be waiting."

When Dylan hung up the phone, John screamed and started hammering the steering wheel, shouting "FUCK!" over and over again. Mac noticed that they were getting close and said, "John, slow down!"

"WHY?"

"We're here." As he said this, John drove through the wooden caution arm and kept going...building 3...building 4...

"Co co coco co!" Coco suggested.

"I know! I know!"

Building 5...building 6...building 7...

"There it is, Master Jonathan! Stop!" John slammed on the brakes, causing the bus to fishtail and spin halfway around before stopping nearly right at the front door of building eight. John cut the engine and raced over to Mr. Herriman, saying, "Herriman, if I don't come out with Frankie in ten minutes, I want all of you to get in there!"

"Master Jonathan, you can't seriously--"

"TEN MINUTES! TIME ME!" As he turned to leave, Madame Foster grabbed his shirt and said, "Kick his ass, Johnny. Kick his ass." John smiled, nodded, and plunged out of the bus and into building eight. One way or another, someone was going to die.


	15. Confrontation

John made a running shoulder charge into the warehouse's door and found himself in the entryway of a vast, empty storage facility. He briefly glanced around and noticed that there were two levels in the place, the second level being an open view to the back, with the remains of a guardrail lying on the ground underneath the platform's edge.

Frankie had to be up there.

He broke into a full-on run as he charged up the stairs. Around and around he went, seemingly getting nowhere but ascending at an astronomical rate. When he reached the top, he was staring straight at Frankie, tied to the pole, mouth taped, and openly weeping with joy upon seeing him.

"Frankie! Thank God!" He began to run towards her when Dylan stepped in front of him, blocking his path and saying, "Not so fast." John halted his progress and stared at him with a glare of pure, simmering hatred.

"You know, John-boy, I admire your heart. Putting yourself through all this must mean you truly love her. But that won't mean jack shit if you're dead, now will it?"

He walked in a circle around John as he continued: "When I first got a glimpse of you a week ago, I didn't think you and her would last. I had this whole motherfucker planned out and ready to go--I figured it'd be a one-time thing and I'd get to kill her in peace, but now it looks like I'm gonna get two for the price of one."

John, seething, clenched his fists so hard that the fingernails broke his skin and caused blood to drip onto the floor. Dylan noticed and said, "You're dripping, Johnny."

"And? Trying to distract me isn't gonna work, Dylan. Let her go and I'll let you live."

"You weren't listening, were you? _I'm_ gonna live--_you're_ the one who's gonna die." John stared a hole into him as he approached Frankie and asked, "Now that you've seen those photos, I have a question to ask you. I didn't make it that far, so enlighten me--was she a good lay?"

Beyond rage, John charged at Dylan preparing to throw a haymaker. Unfortunately, Dylan countered the blow and punched John in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees.

"What the fuck's that?" Dylan wondered. "All that talk about how you're gonna slit my throat and castrate me, and you go down with one punch? COME ON! I know you're made of stronger stuff than that!"

He approached John and said, "I'll tell you what. You're so eager to beat the crap out of me, I'll give you that chance. One on one--you and me. Whoever dies first loses. What do ya say?"

John got off his knees and said, "Sounds like a deal."

"Any last words?"

"Sure." He gestured towards Frankie and said, "Champagne for my real friends..." then gestured towards Dylan and finished: "...and real pain for my sham friends."

Dylan smiled at his audacity and went into a fighting stance. John did the same, and the two locked eyes and stared each other down. Within seconds, Dylan and John simultaneously let out a war cry and rushed at each other, ready to fight to the death.


	16. Altercation

It was an inauspicious start to a potential bloodbath.

John and Dylan charged at each other and locked hands above each other's heads. The two strained against each other in an effort to bring the other to the floor. Dylan had the upper hand early, forcing John onto one knee before he fought back and forced Dylan onto both knees and kicked him in the stomach.

Dylan reeled as John tried to get another kick in, but he rolled out of the way as soon as he saw John's foot coming towards him. He rose from the floor and threw a series of punches, two of which connected with John's face. He shook it off and returned the blows, catching Dylan below his left eye and on his jaw, knocking out one of his teeth. He spit out the fragments and came at John, who readied himself for the oncoming blow.

Dylan speared him in the chest, the force of which knocked both of them to the ground. Frankie yelled muffled encouragements to John as he struggled to keep Dylan from striking him any further. Suddenly, Dylan pinned John's arms to the floor and held them there, hoisted himself up until he was nearly perpendicular to John, and prepared to swoop down and knee him in the crotch.

Thankfully, John saw it coming and threw Dylan off balance by rolling to his left, causing him to lose his balance and fall on his back. Dylan got up almost immediately and came at John with a 4x4 he'd picked up off of the floor and started wildly swinging it at him. John tried his best to avoid it, as its business end had a collection of nails sticking out of it. A few errant swings took place before John knocked it out of Dylan's hands and delivered a right cross followed by a left hook that knocked Dylan around and had him briefly seeing stars. John prepared to deliver the knockout blow, but Dylan ducked when he swung, throwing him off balance and sending him to the floor.

Dylan seized his chance and pinned his arms to the floor again, hoisted himself up, and drove his right knee into John's groin with all the force he could muster. John screamed in agony as kneecap connected with testicles, and he winced when Dylan began to repeat the maneuver. All he could do was brace himself as Dylan drove his left knee into his crotch. Frankie shut her eyes and looked away as Dylan hoisted John off of the floor and punched him in the face, sending him back down again.

"JOHN! HEY, JOHN!" Bloo called.

John cringed and asked himself, has it been ten minutes already? Any other thoughts he may have had were wiped out as Dylan kicked him in the chest, driving the breath out of him. When he heard Bloo's voice, Dylan turned and glanced out over the platform--when he saw the residents of Foster's standing below him, he grinned sadistically only to be whirled around and met with a punch to the face.

Another tooth went flying as Dylan staggered towards the 4x4 lying on the ground. As John approached him, Dylan picked it up and once again began to swing at John, landing a few corner blows with the non-pointy end, but that wasn't good enough. As John dodged the potential blows, he noticed everyone standing below and grinned.

That momentary distraction was all that Dylan needed. He drew back and swung, burying the nailed end in John's side. Everyone on the ground screamed as John yelled various profanities as he staggered around with the plank suspended in his left chest area. Dylan pulled it out and grabbed the plank just above the nailed end, brandished it like a baseball bat, and said, "I told you you'd die." He swung it with all his might and sent John down to the floor with authority as Frankie let out a muffled scream.

Thinking him knocked out, Dylan dropped the 4x4 at the unconscious body of John Stiles and laughed to himself. That was one down...one more to go.


	17. Annihilation

"No way. No way. NO FREAKIN' WAY!"

"Senor John can't be dead! He _can't_ be!"

"Oh, Master Jonathan..."

"He's fine! I know it! He's fine!"

"I don't think so, kid," Dylan called from the top of the platform. "I'd say he's either knocked out or three inches from death!"

Mac valiantly rushed forward only to be held back by Bloo and Madame Foster, screaming, "YOU ASSHOLE! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

"Hey, watch your language, kid!" He had cut Frankie loose from the pole, but kept her hands tied behind her and her mouth taped. He pulled her next to him, held a knife to her throat, and continued: "There's a lady present!"

Everyone gasped in fright as Dylan continued to gloat, not noticing John slowly rising behind him. "Now, I've tried to be reasonable. I tried to get her to come back to me of her own volition. But that goody-two-shoes ass-kisser back there tried to muscle in on my territory, and you all saw what I did to him!"

John slowly rose to his feet, eyes trained on Dylan's bare back as he wielded the 4x4 like a baseball bat. He crept up behind him as he wound down his tirade: "I win! I've got Frankie Foster back and there's nothing that Johnny can do about it! It just goes to show you: YOU DON'T MESS WITH DYLAN LEE'S PROPERTY!"

Before he had a chance to cut her throat, he heard a deep, gravelly voice behind him:

"SHE'S_ MINE!"_

John brought the 4x4 up over his head and drove it with all his might into the small of Dylan's back. Upon impact, Dylan's arms instantly flung out in a gesture of surprise and pain. The knife fell from his hand to the floor below as he screamed. John twisted the plank, accentuating the pain and further tearing Dylan's flesh. However, this caused Dylan to swing around and knock Frankie off balance. She precariously teetered on the edge of the platform as John turned him around, and when he came face to face with her, she had already lost her balance and was hurtling towards the floor.

"Oh FUCK!" John screamed. _"WILT!"_

"I'm on it!" Wilt answered as he ran towards the falling girl. He quickly concluded running wouldn't get him there in time, so he made a diving leap with his good arm outstretched, and caught Frankie about a foot from the ground. As he hit the concrete and rolled over, everyone raced towards him to help him and Frankie.

"We're okay!" Wilt shouted. "We're both okay!"

That was all the ammunition John needed. He twisted the 4x4 even further and tore it out, taking a chunk of Dylan's flesh with it. Now bleeding profusely, Dylan was helpless against John's assault. He landed punch after punch, breaking Dylan's ribs and jarring more teeth loose. John put his hand inside the wound and accentuated the pain even further as he rammed his head into the pole he had tied Frankie to over and over again. A sickening series of crunches echoed through the building as Dylan's nose shattered and blood began to pour from his mouth. John forcibly threw Dylan onto the ground and kicked him all over his body as hard as he could, reserving the strongest blows for his crotch. When he was done, he hoisted Dylan up and guided him to the edge of the platform, standing back for a moment to take it all in.

John Stiles, breathing heavily, stared at Dylan's staggering form. Battered, bruised and broken, he swayed from side to side, ready to fall at any second. Blood dripped from his newly broken nose onto the floor, creating a steady dripping noise that would have brought a satisfied smile to John's face, but not under these circumstances. He had to end it here. He calmly walked toward Dylan, all the while replaying the meeting at the Sandbox in his head.

_She belongs to me.  
You're a freakin' nobody.  
Do you think a piece of paper is gonna stop me from getting her back?  
That's my property.  
You can't stop me, John-boy._

John angrily glared at him for a few seconds before muttering to himself, "Consider yourself stopped." He clenched his right hand into a fist, drew back, and unleashed the most powerful uppercut he could throw. When fist met flesh, he could feel Dylan's jaw shatter as the force of the blow rocketed him off of the platform and into the air. For what seemed like hours but was only about ten seconds, Dylan's body seemed to flutter in the breeze as he hurtled towards the concrete floor below. Fifteen feet later, a loud, sharp _crack!_ echoed through the warehouse as Dylan's head struck the concrete at a near 90 degree angle. His body twisted around, froze for a split second, and crumpled to the ground in a heap.

John stared down at the twisted visage of his enemy, cracked his neck, and mumbled his victory: "I told _you_ you'd die."

Eduardo cautiously approached the body and poked it once. No response. He poked it again. No response. He turned to his friends and said with utmost confidence, "Dylan es muerta."

John descended the stairs clutching his side and walked into the cluster of imaginary friends and humans that he now considered his surrogate family. He turned to Madame Foster and said, "I kicked his ass for you...for me...for Frankie."

Upon hearing his voice, Frankie rushed from Wilt and Coco's care and wrapped John in a huge, king-size hug that neither wanted to end. They squeezed each other tight as tears of joy and relief spilled from their eyes. Almost instantly, everyone started to applaud John for what he'd done. He looked around to see proud, beaming smiles on everyone's face as they gave him their show of support.

Then, suddenly, Frankie let go of him, stood before him, and bowed at his feet, saying, "You...are a GOD!" Upon seeing this, all the memories of the good times they'd had despite all that happened came flooding back to John, and he began to cry. Frankie stopped her routine, put her hand under his chin, and guided his eyes to hers. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours before Frankie said, "I think I know how much you love me."

John smiled through his tears and said, his voice breaking, "More than you'll ever know." Frankie wiped the tears from his eyes, drew him into her arms, and they kissed for nearly half a minute.

Bloo shielded his eyes and mumbled, "Gross..."

As their lips parted, John turned to look at Dylan's body, Frankie, and the group before him. He broke the silence with a simple declaration everyone agreed with: "Let's get the fuck outta here."

"That's the best idea I've heard all night," Mac said. As everyone started for the bus, John asked, "You don't mind if I drop you guys off at Foster's, do you?"

"Not at all," Madame Foster said. "Besides, you two deserve a break."

"Indeed, Master Jonathan. That was an incredible display of fisticuffs."

"What're you gonna do after you drop us off?" Bloo asked. "Go to the Rialto for a little 'victory dance?'"

"No," he answered, "I'm going to the hospital--I need a tetanus shot."


	18. Celebration

Later that night, John and Frankie checked into their hotel room at the local Days Inn. Upon entering, John opened his suitcase and pulled out Dylan's old camera, setting it up over the bed and programming the timer to take a picture three hours from now. He then flopped down on the bed and kicked off his shoes, stretched, and yawned. Frankie had just started unpacking her things when she noticed him start to doze off.

"Don't you dare fall asleep on me, honey," Frankie said.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep. Promise."

"Okay, but if you're asleep, I won't show you my surprise."

"Ooh, a surprise, huh? Well, in that case, I can stay awake!"

"Well, you'll have to wait. Let me just slip into something a bit more comfortable."

John's eyes widened as Frankie closed the door to the bathroom and got dressed. He smiled and sank into the bed, alone for the moment with his thoughts. After everything that had happened in the past week, they were as close as two people could possibly be. Now that he'd stopped Dylan, they wouldn't have to worry anymore. He was now a welcome guest at Foster's, something of a folk hero to them, even.

Just then, Frankie said, "I've got your surprise!"

"Alright! What is it?"

"You'll have to close your eyes first--otherwise it won't be a surprise!"

"Okay!" John closed his eyes and eagerly awaited what Frankie had in store for him. After waiting for about fifteen seconds, he heard Frankie say, "Open your eyes, John." When he did, he saw her standing before him in a slinky black nightgown, wearing bright red lipstick, stud earrings, black eyeliner, and black stockings that extended all the way up her legs. John's eyes widened with delight as he said, "Come to daddy, you sexy thing."

Frankie playfully crawled across the bed towards him and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. As John anticipated her next move, he was caught off guard when she began tickling his sides, taking care to avoid his bandaged wound.

"DAAAH! Frankie! Ha ha! Stop that!"

"What's that? Keep at it?" She began to tickle him harder, and every attempt made by John to fight back was in vain as Frankie worked him over. He laughed until he was out of breath, and then he laughed some more. Eventually Frankie stopped and put her chin on her hands, which were straddled across his chest, kicked her legs in the air, and said, "Well, I guess I'm a worthy adversary."

"Oh, you're worthy, all right," John said. "Worthy of a massive tickle blast!" He grabbed Frankie by her hips and spun her around on her back, and straddled her lower torso as he grabbed her feet and slowly dragged his finger across her soles. Frankie squealed with laughter and struggled mightily, but John held on and moved up her body, hitting every sensitive spot he could. Frankie's cries of ecstatic laughter were music to his ears, and he began to laugh himself as he worked his way up her chest. When he got to her neck and her face, he stopped and told her, "Well, if you're a worthy adversary, I guess that makes me your rival."

"Only in times like this," Frankie said. John smiled as he began to kiss her and caress her body all throughout the night. Eventually the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms, and when that happened, the camera went off and snapped a photo of them--arm in arm, hand in hand, face to face. Two lovers, having shared a moment of release, now at peace for the night.

The only difference was, this was a moment worth keeping.

_FINIS_


End file.
